


reversed justice

by dcuros



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reverse Chronology, no beta we die like men, this still counts as fluff right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcuros/pseuds/dcuros
Summary: not all stories are happy storiesif you want to write a happy ending, sometimes you have to start at the end





	reversed justice

It ends with two gunshots.

 

One, in the depths of a police station that doesn’t exist, where a bullet meets Akira’s brain, a fatal collision that should have left no survivors; the other, weeks later, behind a steel wall that remains immovable under his fists.

 

“His signal is...gone.” Futaba announces quietly, stopping the steady pounding of Joker’s fists and the staccato beats in his chest. 

 

His feet are heavy as he turns toward the stairs, his blood frozen over in his veins, his heart running on empty and fuelled only by a ghost of a promise. 

 

In the end, they both wished for justice to be served. But now, more than that, Joker wishes that Crow was still alive.

  
  
**|||||||||**  
  
  


“Oh thank god, you’re okay,” Akira says when he finally tracks down the detective in his newly-designated hideout (the deserted restrooms on the third-floor). Akechi’s face is as red as his eyes. A few stray tears gathers near the corners, but they do nothing to dull the sharp glare the detective sends his way as he tries to unscrew the cap off of a water bottle.

 

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you about that, but I didn’t expect you to just go for it like that.” Akira sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “To be fair, I wasn’t entirely sure if you got the special one.”

 

“If by special one you mean the spicy one, then I certainly hit the jackpot.” Akechi remarks drily. He takes a long swig from his water bottle, starting a minor coughing fit as the water pushes down the pinpricks of heat in his mouth and deposits them in his throat. 

 

Akira rubs his back in sympathy, grabbing Akechi’s drink before he poured it all over himself. “I didn’t know you were bad with spicy food. Is that why you never order the curry at Leblanc?”

 

“I can handle some spice! I… just wasn’t expecting it.” Akechi’s face grows impossibly redder, almost glowing even in the dim lights of the restroom. He coughs again, composing himself, before turning coyly at Akira. “I’ll try your curry next time,  _ honey _ . Just go easy on me, okay?”

 

Warmth buds in Akira’s chest and blooms into laughter. He steps closer, almost pressing himself against the other. “If you're still having trouble with the spiciness, I hear something sweet can help with that. How about it?” 

 

He doesn’t wait for a response, already leaning in. 

  
  
**|||||||||**

 

Leblanc is empty in the early evening, save for a man working on his laptop in the back booth. 

 

Akira looks up from the dishes when the he hears the door chime, heralding Akechi’s arrival. The routine is familiar; he moves for the bean shelf, picking out the detective’s usual blend, while the other takes his usual perch by the counter and sets up the chessboard.

 

He hands Akechi his coffee, fingers brushing together, lingering ever so slightly. They speak in hushed voices, to keep the case details a secret. They continue even when the other patron leaves, even when their conversation shifts, to hobbies, to school, to restaurants, until they had nothing left to speak of. Then, they don’t speak at all.

 

They don’t speak, because there was nothing more they needed to say.

  
**|||||||||**  
  
  


“They do more than the cops.” Akira argues, steel-grey eyes looking past the announcer to meet ruby red.

 

Akechi smirks back, a quick turn of the lips that vanished just as fast as it came, shooting him another question and launches into a tirade about the Thieves’ methods. Every question, every allegation he makes about the Thieves boils the blood in Akira’s veins. 

 

They talk briefly after the show ends. Thesis and antithesis, Akechi calls them. Opposites, in the fanciest of terms. 

 

“Would you mind talking to me again?” He asks, and Akira couldn’t agree fast enough. He watches the detective walk away, chest burning with a new bond — a promise that he’ll see Akechi again.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just some writing practice while I figure out how to string a narrative together. Feel free to comment if I missed anything or yell at me on my twitter @hereliesandy.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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